“O mamma,” exclaimed Zoe, “there’s no imagination about it! Girls, you have shown great taste in arraying her for the occasion; it only needs the addition of my floral crown to make her dress quite perfect.”
But carriages were driving up the avenue, and near friends and relatives came pouring in with their congratulations and gifts, which last were received with grateful thanks and bestowed, for the present, in a small reception-room set apart for the purpose.
When the last of the guests had arrived all repaired to the grounds, wending their way toward the arbor where the heroine of the day was seated on an extemporized throne garlanded with flowers, while her father made a neat little speech and placed the floral crown on her head, then, dropping on one knee at her feet, kissed her hand and presented a bouquet of calla lilies, pinks, and roses.
It was altogether a surprise to her, and a vivid blush mantled her cheek.
“My dear father,” she said, low and tenderly, looking up into his face, with eyes half filled with tears, as he rose and stood by her side, “you should never have knelt to me—your own child.”
“Only in sport, dearest,” he said, bending down and imprinting a kiss upon her lips; “you know young lads like myself must be allowed to indulge in a trifle of that kind occasionally.”
He stepped aside, and amid much jesting and mirth, the others followed his example till the throne and its occupant were half hidden in the fragrant heaps of floral offerings.
But father and sons, coming to the rescue, extricated her without damage to person or attire, and she went about among her guests doing the honors of the place with a sweet and gentle dignity all her own.
There were no strangers among them, however, and everybody felt at home and free to follow his or her own inclinations, to sit and converse in the grateful shade of the fine old trees, wander about lawn, shrubbery, and gardens, or take part in the active sports with which the children and youth of the company were delighting themselves.
But it was not in the kind heart of Grandma Elsie to neglect her poorer guests. Her father, sons, and a few others accompanying her, she paid a short visit to each assembly, went about among them with kindly inquiries concerning their health and welfare (no air of condescension marring their enjoyment of her sweet looks and words), and distributing gifts—from a large basket carried by two men-servants—of such articles of food and clothing as she knew would be acceptable; for, ever, like her Master, going about doing good, she was a frequent visitor in their dwellings and well acquainted with their needs.